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Fan: Before Hell's Island
Before Hell’s Island: What Happened to Toast after HAUNTED BY FNAF? Chapter 1 The storm on the horizon slowly drifted across the pitch black sky, partially obscured by the trees as the headlights of a van streaked past through the dark woods. Inside, Johnny Toast drove on. He willed himself not to cry, forcing, choking back the tears, trying not to think about the last moments of his partner. Johnny Ghost was dead. Johnny. Dead. He couldn’t believe it. It just didn’t sound right. He couldn’t be dead. He just couldn’t. Could he? No, he told himself, it was some sort of trick. Maybe it was a ghost, Maxwell or Aimée or Toilet Toucher- Oh god. He’s dead. He nearly choked as he replayed the last few minutes in his head. -I’m a puppet- don’t want to live like this- can’t jump – goodbye, Johnny – Goodbye forever – Johnny tried to snap himself out of it. He turned on the radio to take his mind off of it. “And I find it kind of funny-” Johnny hit the button so fast he nearly broke it. “Mad World” was not the cheeriest of songs and he really didn’t need to get any more emotional. Everything was different now. First they’d lost Oz, then Roast, then Maloney, then Aimée, and now Johnny was gone. Gone. Forever. And why? He swallowed hard. Outside, it started raining as a car sped past. He missed the good old days, when it was just the two of them in the Ghostmobile, going around America with an inconspicuous TV crew following them everywhere catching everything they did on film and broadcasting it to the watching nation. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know where to go. Yes, technically he was the boss, but having spent so long posing as Johnny’s apprentice, he just couldn’t operate without his leadership, his guidance. He needed to calm down, get a grip on himself. When he got back in, maybe he’d pour himself a nice cup of- Johnny used to like his tea. He used to give it to him when Casket threatened to break out. Wait, does that mean Casket is dead? Johnny doubted it. Casket had managed to take over other people’s minds before, it was probable he would try again. Then again, maybe after last time he was gone for good… Whatever happened next, it was clear that nothing would ever be the same again. And then, he realized what he had to do. He had to call The East Coast PIE Team. The van rolled on as he drove through the night, Total Eclipse of the Heart playing on the radio. He couldn’t get a room in the motel that night, so he slept in the back of the van that night. It wasn’t that far of a drive from Carolina, he figured. Wouldn’t it be so much easier, he wondered, if TONI was still here to do the driving? Of course, that was a little impossible seeing as TONI’s CPU got fried back in- Yeah. Toast didn’t want to think about how many friends he’d lost. How many lives had been affected by his time in PIE? How much good had he actually done, and how much more harm had he caused? How many lives had been affected by his actions? The lucky ones – if you could call them that – the survivors had to rebuild their lives after the ordeal and all they ever did was drive on. On to the next case. He placed his internal monologue on pause as he came up to the corner leading to PIE Headquarters. As he turned the corner, he realized that there was a police corden around the building. Hey, is that Sylar over there, by that oddly familiar-looking policeman? Johnny stopped the van and ran over. “Hey, Sylar!” Sylar turned and her eyes lit up when she saw him, as they always seemed to. He could’ve sworn that girl had a crush on him. “Johnny! Where’ve you been? And where’s other Johnny?” Johnny’s mind raced. How was he going to explain this to her? “Uh… I’ll explain later. What’s happening here?” “Didn’t you here? Papa Acachalla’s gone missing.” Johnny frowned. “So what?” “He co-owns this building. They have a warrant, and they suspect foul play, so they’re saying this place is now officially Major Crimes jurisdiction.” Johnny groaned. “Major Crimes Division! They’re handing it over to those bloodsuckers? Why not just give it to the Tellytubbies, you’d get better results.” In the front, several PIE technicians were arguing with some policemen about seizing PIE equipment. Johnny noticed Spooker among the crowd and resisted the temptation to pull out his gun and shoot him there and then, in front of half of the North Carolina Police Department. “OK, Sylar, I need you to call the guys at East Coast, tell them to come over here, and that it’s urgent. I’ll explain later, I promise. For now, I need to concentrate on finding us a temporary accommodation, give us time to think.” “OK, I’ll get right on it.” She looked at him slightly bemused before turning to go and do just that. Johnny grabbed her by the shoulder. “Sylar…” He pulled her close and held her for a while. She patted him on the back, now rather concerned, and tried to wriggle out of his grasp. After a moment that seemed to last an eternity, he released her and they continued about their business, an unspoken vow between them never to discuss that moment with anyone, ever. ***** “What is that in the upstairs window?” “Uh, sir, um-” “I saw something, tell me you saw something.” Johnny sat by the projector in a darkened room and watched through Johnny’s tape. It seemed odd, looking back, that they had decided to film what had turned out to be Johnny’s final case as a documentary for the Discovery Channel. Another thing, although it wasn’t very significant, was that he hadn’t enjoyed a case before quite as much as he’d enjoyed that one. His relationship with Ghost seemed to have reached its apex, it’s high point. There was still the odd good-humoured ribbing, but that was to be expected. It was a bit like that TV series, the Persuaders, which had an upper-class British Guy working with an American as secret agents. “I’ve been volunteering to do your crap since we were six years old.” Ghost’s celluloid spectre ranted at his onscreen counterpart. “I’m not doing that thing-” Johnny hit the fast-forward button and suddenly images of Benny and Papa Acachalla flashed before his eyes. He hit the play button and- “Sir, isn’t that- you?” The camera panned away from Toast to a third body lying on the ground. It was Ghost. Ghost came in close to the body, trying to get a better look at it, when it disappeared. Johnny felt a shiver run down his spine. It was almost a premonition. “This is, ah… Johnny Toast.” Johnny cringed. He hated watching himself on TV. “I don’t know if you saw that… hair flip I did there… And today I’ll be… investigating this… creepy haunted awesome mansion.” Why did I keep pausing, he asked himself, I sound like William Shatner. “Johnny? I think I saw something outside of that window.” “What-what?” “I saw a big purple rabbit standing outside of that window.” Suddenly the camera panned in as Toast turned around and said, “Trucks are for kids!” The sound of ghost’s laughing partially obscured the voice of the owner explaining that they were on the second floor and that there wasn’t any ledge outside. “Hey, I saw it again!” Funny how it only ever seemed to be Ghost to see it, Johnny mused. “It’s in the maze!” “You can’t go in there! I’ve never seen anyone come out!” “Get this jump, sir! This is gonna be ‘Maze Runner 2’!” And with that, Johnny Toast disappeared over the ledge. “JOHNNY, JOHNNY! THERE IS CURRENTLY A PURPLE RABBIT IN THE MAZE FOLLOWING YOU.” Johnny shouted into his radio. “He’s in the clock tower.” Toast said to himself idly. The camera panned up. There was, indeed, the silhouette of Johnny Toast standing at the top of the clock tower. “JUMP!” shouted Ghost. “DO IT!” “ARGH! MY LEG!” “UH, MAN DOWN, MAN DOWN, WE NEED AN EVAC.” Again, the mics jarred. Toast winced as his eardrums whined from the screeching. “JOHNNY, RUN! No, JOHNNY!” Johnny winced as his onscreen double was hit full-on in the chest with a massive spike. Just as a precaution, he checked his chest. There wasn’t even a scar. What was in that balloon, he wondered. Not that he could ask Swift Taylor about it. Suddenly from somewhere within the building came an inhuman scream. “What was that? Hurry, get inside! There’s a whole army outside, they’re closing in Johnny!” The rising panic was apparent from Ghost’s voice. He was losing his normal cool and collected composure in a matter of moments. “They’re everywhere!” “RUN SIR!” A brief flash of Foxy before the camera went dark. “OF COURSE!” Johnny jumped up. “That’s what happened at the Pizzeria! They’re turning them into-” Johnny stopped in sudden realization. “My god. Those poor people.” ***** “Hello” the clerk said in a faux-cheery disposition, “Welcome to Papa Acachalla’s Funeral Parlour.” “This town seems like it’s not real.” “Yes, we get that complaint a lot. We’re working on it.” Johnny shifted uncomfortably. “Um, I’d like to arrange a funeral in three days.” “Who for?” Johnny swallowed hard and bit his lip. “Johnny Ghost.” ***** The funeral was a short, solemn affair. Practically everybody they knew had come to pay last respects to the dearly departed paranormal investigator – even those who hated him. Johnny could see a lot of familiar faces in the crowd. The Acachalla’s, Aimée, Suzie the Zoroark, Johnny Roast, the Widow of Officer Maloney, Ash Williams, Phoenix Wright, Toilet Toucher, Ghostbusters, the Mario Brothers, some other people he didn’t recognise… and, of course, the East Coast PIE crew. How long had it been since they’d split? It seemed like forever. Ben was the same as he remembered. He looked a little older, and, if he was honest, a little less moody than when he last saw him. Hopefully this was sign of improvement, but Johnny didn’t doubt for a second that this had dulled his deadly mental abilities. Roast? Still dead, as usual. He’d heard that he was trying to hook up with a level 6 poltergeist somewhere south of Michigan, but whether or not this was true or how it would even work, he didn’t want to think about it. Lightning Brad, fastest racer in Dodge City. And part-time Werewolf, although that part he wasn’t in control of. Brad had been brought on as a suggestion by Ash, the father of Ghost’s half-sister- “Miss Williams, it’s good to see you again. I’m-I’m just sorry it had to be under such… tragic circumstances. I wish I could’ve done something to…” He broke off, distraught. She gently placed her hand on his shoulder in a consoling gesture towards her old friend. Toast hugged her gently, holding her in a firm, solemn embrace. They looked into each other’s eyes, trying to find the words, but nothing came. Johnny’s voice froze in his mouth. ***** “Ben. Long time, no see. I heard you were dead?” “Yeah, I heard that one too.” ***** “Hey Brad. How’s Sabrina?” “Sabrina?” Brad gave him a look that, if looks could kill, would be equivalent to letting off several bursts of a semi-automatic machine gun in a crowded shopping centre. “Sabrina’s dead, remember? Sabrina’s dead, and I’m stuck with her Kromagg Clone Spy from an alternate universe, who probably would’ve killed us all if not for… Anyway, it’s a really weird relationship.” “Yeah, I can imagine. Sorry about that.” ***** Johnny found himself saying something he never in his wildest dreams thought that he would ever say. “I’ve gotta see mum.” ***** “Johnny.” A voice said from behind him. He turned around. Facing him was an old man, possibly late sixties, with a lined face, thinning grey-to-silver hair and deep brown eyes that seemed to stare right into his soul. He wore a dark suit and a dirty brown mac. There as something about his face that was vaguely familiar, but Johnny couldn’t quite place it, which annoyed him greatly, as he prided himself for having a great memory for faces. “Do I know you?” He asked. “In a manner of speaking.” The man answered. “Well if you’ll excuse me, I’m rather busy-” Johnny didn’t have time for this. “I know something you don’t about your friend.” The old man interrupted him. This alone was enough to pique Johnny’s curiosity. “What do you know?” “The truth. I know what has happened, I know why it has happened, and I know the way to save him.” Johnny frowned. What was this leading to? “So Johnny Ghost is alive?” “In a manner of speaking he is neither alive nor dead. He does not currently exist in our universe. He is, if you will forgive the rather outdated metaphor, in limbo, in a nether-dimension between this world and the next, unable to reach either, in a state between wake and sleep, between body and mind.” He hesitated slightly before asking his next question. “Is there a way to bring him back?” The man didn’t answer. “There are many things I must tell you. Come. I’ve been watching you for some time.” He led Johnny off, and as they walked he continued talking. “When I was young, I made a terrible mistake that cost many lives. The blood of innocents are on my hands. Now, I fear that more will pay for my mistake…” Johnny stopped. “What’s your name?” The man looked at Johnny and his own form sadly for a very long time. “My name… Is Gregory.”